The Only One Who Believes Will Graham (WillxOC)
by ALostWinchester
Summary: Will has been released on a technicality, and lives a lonely life in his house, until Molly appears, bloodied and running from none other than Hannibal Lecter. WillxOC mature content and secual scenes
1. Chapter 1

Will's appeal cleared him of his jail sentence and nothing else. People still believed he was the killer of more people than Abigail Hobbs, but at least he had his house and his dogs back.

He spent ten months in virtual solitude, visited only by a nurse to make sure he was taking his medicine and looking after himself sufficiently once a week, and occasionally by some good friends who would politely spend an awkward hour with him every few weeks or so. Alana Bloom had moved too far away to return, but she wrote to him, sometimes called. Her letters almost cleared the stains of hate mail or the even worse fan mail he received.

Strangers were usually reporters Will quickly slammed the door back into, but Will was watching the world through his window and he saw her approaching. He wondered if at first she was a hallucination. She was a nightmare walking towards his door, her hair a tangled mess, her movements wearied and her skin and clothes bathed in blood. When Will decided she wasn't a hallucination, he moved from the window to go to her. They both stopped upon her eyes lifting and noticing him.

"Are you Will Graham?" she asked, her throat dry but her words clear. Will considered if her words were a warped message from his subconscious. Nothing jumped out at him.

"Yes." He stated. She sagged a little, as though weight was lifted from her shoulders.

"I think I might be the only person alive who believes you about Dr. Hannibal Lecter."


	2. Chapter 2

"I think I might be the only person alive who believes you about Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

Will's breath caught in his chest, but he hid any reaction behind the muted mask he wore day in and day out; it was fixed into place now.

"Do you need a hospital?"

"He'll find me."

"Why did you come here?"

"Can we talk inside?"

Will thought about it a moment as her eyes pleaded up to him. He turned and he followed behind him, limping. The dogs came up to her, tails increasingly wagging as she whispered kindly to them and extended her closed hand to them each. He turned on the kettle and offered tea or coffee. She begged for coffee. He offered a shower and her eyes welled.

"But first," he placed two mugs at his table, "Tell me what happened."

She sat and Will studied her movements carefully. She trembled with exhaustion and favoured her side. She looked to the mug wrapped in her two hands as she explained,

"I was sent to Lecter by my uncle." Her shaking voice gave away the difficulty she had in saying this, "I got the feeling I pissed him off and he appeared at my house one afternoon..." she was breathless, "That was four days ago. He... He was in my house with just me for two days. He answered the door to a mail-guy and I had gotten myself loose so I stuck the scalpel into his back, shoved him aside and ran out the door while it was still open. I'm surprised the cops haven't picked me up."

"Why did you come here?"

"I don't think he realised I worked on the Hobbs cases at the Bureau and followed it since. We talked mostly about my past in the sessions. He wouldn't think to look for me here." She looked to Will at last, "I need help."

"And you think I should give it to you because we share a connection with Lecter?"

"I think that if I don't ask for help I wont get it."

She wasn't crazy. She was angry definitely, and possibly a little twisted for sticking a knife in her captor's back instead of just running. But she was clearly alone and lost. Will didn't need heightened empathy to understand that.

"What is your name?"

"Molly."

"You can take a shower."

She closed her eyes and whispered thanks into her mug. She drank deeply and tears streaked her spotted red cheeks. What had Lecter done to her?


	3. Chapter 3

She closed her eyes and whispered thanks into her mug. She drank deeply and tears streaked her spotted red cheeks. What had Lecter done to her?

Will found out, after she showered. The water had been turned off, and twenty long minutes had passed without a sound. He pushed open the bathroom door and found her seated on the closed toilet, wrapped tightly in a grey towel that absorbed blood from her open skin, facing the red-orange water sinking away. Lecter had carved a dear mid-leap into her skin, deep into the flesh. It was like a taunt, but it didn't feel like a personally aimed threat at Will; Hannibal had drawn this just for her. Will grabbed another towel and pressed it between her shoulder blades. She recoiled and hissed in protest as he insisted,

"You need a doctor."

"I've made it this far."

"You need stitches."

"Please don't take me where he can find me." Her voice broke. She trembled beneath Will's touch, he bent so he was a little below her level.

"I'll do the stitches. It won't be pretty though."

She laughed and met his eyes with her own, nodding in thanks. She was tanned, the skin on her back varying slightly in tone to that of her arms and chest. Her hair was brown like milk chocolate and her eyes were so brown he mistook them for Iris-less pupils. She was made of delicate, inviting curves and firm muscles, and a tattoo sneaked out from beneath the towel on her leg.

The tattoo was the reason he had drawn on her; a tattoo of his own making.

He stood and held out his hand as he led her down to the desk he made fishing hooks from. He pulled out a first aid kit, poured some boiling water in a bowl over salt to disinfect the needle and pulled the thin chord of dental floss he had taken down from the bathroom to an estimated reasonable length. He gave her the painkillers left from the worst of his time working with Lecter and the FBI. She took three and trembled, managing not to whimper for the first ten minutes of stitching. Neither of them said a word; even as the towel fell further down to stitch every stroke of the knife. Will admired his handiwork and wished today was a day the nurse was swinging by – she looked butchered but the wounds were closed.

"When did you last sleep?"

She shook her head, "Afraid I wouldn't wake up."

Will wondered if he had dreamt through the night. Had sweat stained his sheets? Not in the last few days. She could have it. She didn't move the dogs and huddled her arms to her chest on the side of his bed. Will left her and toyed with the idea of calling Jack Crawford, or Alana.

Molly slept for twelve hours. Will had gone to the store and bought her shorts and underwear; she could borrow his t-shirt. When she gasped awake after a dream-memory of Hannibal, he ventured carefully closer to the room. She looked to him and he held the plastic carrier bag out to her.

"Shorts and underwear." He explained. "You can take any of my t-shirts and I can give you some money for clothes. I think you should stay here a while; a nurse swings by here every week since you won't go to hospital."

"I'll pay you back. Every penny I cost you."

"You don't have to –"

"No. I will, it's only right."

"I don't get visitors often." He said as he placed the bag at the door, turned and gave Molly privacy within which to dress. She left the room in the plain grey shorts and his grey t-shirt with a large skyscraper print across the front she must have found in a drawer, two dogs wagging at her feet as she moved and entered the kitchen straight away. She raided the cupboards and Will concentrated on his book until she appeared, swinging a bag of bread from her hand. She held herself carefully, a little hunched, and wholly humbled.

"Can I make a sandwich?" she asked quietly. No one had made Will food since prison, and before that Lecter. He nodded and smiled none the less. She turned and spent several minutes packing two sandwiches with almost every filling she could find in his fridge. He found his eyes wondering to her. He noticed bruising appearing around her wrists, and ankles, and thighs and shoulders where Lecter no doubt bound or pressed his fingers into her flesh. She passed him a sandwich on top of a napkin and he smiled at it as he took it: his mother was the last person he'd seen who did that. Molly stood in front of the window as she ate, clearly forcing herself to either eat slower than she wanted to or put the food into her stomach.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"Assuring myself he isn't right outside."

"I did that. For six weeks before I decided he wouldn't come. I keep a gun or a knife at every door and beneath my pillow though."

She turned to him, "I can't blame you. I'm sorry. I never thought about ..." she struggled for words, her chest rising and falling more exaggeratedly as she became agitated.

"It's fine." He reassured her. "I can see out from this seat so, why don't you sit too?"

She hesitated but took the seat opposite him. One of the dogs jumped up next to her and she looked to Will for permission. He smiled and gave a short nod and she clapped the dog, making small movements to ease the tension of stitches in her back. She never leaned back.

"Is anyone looking for you?" he asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. They wont find me here either. I'm frightened to draw him to them... I'm frightened to know he might be hurting them to get to me."

"Selfish," her eyes snapped to him begging him to take it back, "but wise."

"It will never be over with him, will it?"

"No."

"How do you live with it?"

Will shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Guns and knives."

She buried her face in the dog's fur before asking, "Have you slept?"

"Yes. It's seven o'clock at night."

She looked outside, "It's hard to tell the time in the summer."

"I could order-in later this evening."

"I'll eat anything you put in front of me."

"Sandwiches first." He smiled, taking a bite. It tasted good.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony came to the door, dressed in black work trousers, black work shoes and a white shirt with his hospital's crest on the breast pocket. Tony had black skin and even darker hair, making his big smile look bigger against his off-yellow teeth. He was perpetually happy and at first that made Will feel sick. Now Tony was the ray of sunshine in his life.

"Mr G!" he called as he came inside with the office's key. Will moved from the kitchen to meet him and prevent him from stumbling upon Molly.

"Tony." He greeted the nurse as he closed the door.

"How are you today Mr G?"

Will noticed Tony's eyes jerking minutely as he scanned the room in his peripheral vision for signs of instability.

"I'm stable, thanks," he grimace, "Tony, I need a favour from you."

Tony frowned and shifted his feet by way of acknowledging the need to pay attention.

"There's a girl here," he began, "And it isn't safe for her to go to hospital. She was attacked and it is important that no one knows she's here."

"I'll be the judge of her going to hospital or not."

Will bowed his head and lead Tony to where Molly slept. She'd been there four nights. He approached her and tapped her shoulder. He whispered to her and she roused from sleep, stepping out of the covers and walking with Will to Tony.

"Molly, this is Tony. He's a nurse. I'd like him to take a look at you."

Her eyes were wide with fear as she looked up to Will, "I can't go to a hospital."

Will looked pointedly to Tony, "You won't."

Molly stood with her legs open and the back of the chair she sat on between them. Tony touched his fingers to the scars and stitches, examining them. One line curved dangerously around her side.

"Who did this to you?" he asked her. She looked briefly at Will and told Tony,

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Will, did you make these stitches?"

"She wouldn't go to the hospital."

Tony pursed his lips together and sighed, glaring at Will, "She should have. You're scars won't be the work of a surgeon but they'll heal, Molly. They don't appear to be infected. I'm not happy with you Will, but you did a good job. I'll bring antibiotics tomorrow, just in case, and a sterilising ointment for the pain."

Molly nodded as Tony stood, and pulled her t-shirt over her head. Will followed Tony to the door to speak in hushed voices,

"I won't say anything, like you asked, but Will tell me that wasn't you."

There it was, the old sting of suspicion.

"It wasn't me, Tony. She came to my door and begged for my help. I know who did this to her and how dangerous he is. If you can have the ointment and antibiotics delivered, you should, he might be watching."

The sincerity in Will's voice troubled Tony and he resolved to ask no further questions. Will clapped him on the shoulder as Tony left, holding the door open for him and shutting it when he was past the threshold. He turned to find Molly back in the chair, again facing its back, this time leaning her arms folded on it and her head in those with her legs both to one side. Her shoulders shook. Will, having grown steadily more comfortable with her presence, moved behind her and scooped her into his arms. He settled into the chair and held her while she cried silently, the only evidence of her tears on her cheeks and in her shallow breaths.


	5. Chapter 5

Will turned off the shower and stood for a second, letting the cold air bite him. He heard singing. Good singing. He wrapped the towel around his waist and descended his stairs still dripping to find Molly singing to the dogs, taking one by the paws and dancing with him gently. His face felt odd. It was smiling.

She spied him and dropped the dog, pressing a palm to her eyes and abruptly deceasing singing. He laughed and returned to the shower to change. Upon his return, dressed and dry apart from his hair, he found her pulling out a floss-stitch from her side. He put his hand on her wrist,

"Don't touch it,"

"But they itch," she argued, reaching around with her free hand, he took the other wrist in the same hand and she struggled against him. He raised her hands over her head.

"I said don't touch it."

Her breath came faster, but only just. If her eyes were lighter he'd notice them dilate. They were awfully close and she took a minute to say,

"I won't. Let me go, Will."

It took him a minute to hear her; he was enjoying himself but he wasn't aware of how much. Only the sight of two small shadows suddenly on the tips of Molly's breasts broke his desire to restrain her from surprise. She moved away from him quickly and occupied herself with a small mountain of dishes. He was frozen for a second, having not felt sexual attraction in years, too depressed to. He looked to her and found her casting him a longing glance coupled with embarrassment and insecurity. The both looked at their hands and Will moved to walk his dogs.

Upon his return, Molly lay on her belly on the couch, reading a book. She didn't blink as he entered and the dogs trotted to their water bowls. He first went upstairs to the bathroom and stripped every layer of clothing from his top half. He ran his hands through his hair and felt his chest flutter with anticipation. He studied his features and wondered how Molly found them. He considered shaving but the image of her nipples came back to his mind and he decided he didn't need to.

She didn't notice his descent to the living room or his naked torso until he crouched onto the couch and hovered above her. She dropped the book upon seeing him and paused to see what he would do. He didn't meet her eyes but stared at her shoulder as he pressed his lips to it, lifted himself from there and placed more across her back. She breathed audibly and lifted her torso up as his hands slipped over her waist so he could gain a fuller grip. He ran his palms over her, pushing up her top and gently kissing the cuts and stitches on her back. He pressed his hips against her ass and she could feel the pressure of his rising cock.

She pressed against him and he sighed lustfully. She moved so she was crouching on the couch, arching her back inwards as Will rubbed against her from behind. She was beautiful in this way – each muscle moved delicately beneath her skin, the ugly scars butchery of stitches were forgotten as she moved and will ran his hands along her legs and sides taking it all in.

He slipped the bottom of her shirt over her back and she reached around with one arm keeping her upright to pull the black tank top over her head. Will held onto it and twisted it around her wrist and she moaned sweetly. He pulled the top and her arm around, turning her to face him and she kneeled upright, mirroring him. She pressed her lips to his and he stopped slightly to her, he elbow bent back keeping pressure around the make-shift tie around her wrist. She stroked her hand over the muscles in his back, shoulder, arm and torso, nipping his bottom lip and his jaw line practically purring. Her free hand slid behind the band of his jeans and he leaned closer to her, pressing her to him with his hand holding the back of her skull, his fingers knotted in her hair.

Their initial moans of approval were muffled and Will nudged her legs apart with his knees, slipping on leg at a time between her legs until she straddled him. Before settling back onto the couch, he unhooked her bra and released her arm so that she could discard it completely from her body. He rested his hands on her hips and watched her move under the slight and slow buck of his hips.

She arched her back before returning to hover over him and say,

"You'll hurt yourself."

Her fingers glided over the line of his penis as it pressed against his jeans. His reply was to undo the button of her combats and force them as far away from her legs as he could. She backed up and freed herself from their confines, keeping her underwear on. She moved her knees beneath his legs, forcing them to bend as she nimbly undid his trousers and pulled them away from him. She moved again to straddle him, holding her fists out to him, palm upright, wrists pressed together. He reached to the ground and slid his belt from his jeans, looped it around her wrist, pulling the buckle as tight as it would go and threading the end between her wrists and under that loop only once. He tugged, she bucked her hips against his boxer shorts, so he wrapped her bond around his own wrist to keep it tight.

He moved it over his head and she placed her elbows either side of his neck. His free hand he placed over her ass, gripping it tight as he moved around on the couch. She wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles together as he stood and took her to his bed. He stepped onto the bed and she pushed onto him as the mattress bounced with each step. He groaned with impatience and loosened his grip around her. She slipped her legs off him and knelt on the mattress, taking the belt away from him as she discarded his remaining clothing.

Almost faltering from the sensation of Molly's mouth encasing his length, Will steadied himself with his palm out behind him on the wall. She was slow at first, lingering with most of him behind her lips as her tongue danced over his sensitive, throbbing flesh. She would push him as deep as she could quickly, catching him by surprise and his knees shook. She took up a steady, wet rhythm until he tightened his fist around the belt still clinging to his arm and wrapped it around. Pulling her to his height. He placed a hand on her neck, kissing her sweetly as he distracted her and tired the belt on the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

He moved away from her and she looked up at him with eager eyes. He moved her so that she kneeled on the bed, nipping her skin as he took away the last piece of fabric between them, her hands kept forward by the belt around them. He moved underneath her, his hands pressed around her thighs and slid his tongue inside of her. She shuddered and moaned. He gripped her legs and bucked his hips, as she responded to each trace of his teeth, every stroke of his tongue. When he could take it no more, he slid himself up the bed, pushing his aching cock in place of his tongue. She cried out.

He moved slowly at first, watching her body take his direction, her eyes shut, mouth agape. He increased pace, pressing his skull deep into his own sheets as he moved inside her, bringing her to the edge and tipping her over.

She bit into her shoulder and moaned freely as he whole body shuddered around him. He moved away, to the back of her where he re-entered her and gave up pace for power. She audibly gasped and sighed, making Will's chest tingle with animalistic pride. He gripped her shoulder and thigh, almost leaning on top of her flat. Her back arched and he closed his eyes against the scars bleeding. He brought her to the precipice of release again and moved, untying her from the belt. She moved to lie down and he took her one last time, leaning his head off centre of her collarbone and lifting her backside off the bed to angle her better. She leaned as he dictated and obliged when he pulled her hand between her legs.

She followed as one of his fingers showed her what he wanted one of her fingers to do. She slid along his length, dipping slightly in and out of herself as worked his way to climax. Finally it happened and his body tensed from head to toe.

When he was ready, he shifted beside Molly and watched her breasts heave with her laboured breaths.

"That probably wasn't smart." He said, holding his own panting fit to say so.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, her eyes closed, her whole body relaxed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she huffed, clearly agitated, "do you regret fucking?"

Her eyes rolled to his and he waited for the next word – thinking she was using 'fuck' as an adjective and not a verb. He was lost for words and he carried on,

"Because I just spent sex in agony as my back tore open, and I decided to ignore that because I thought you wanted something."

"I am clinically classed as disturbed; I can't say I'm exactly a good candidate to share a relationship with you."

Her eyebrows shot up at 'relationship'. She smiled to herself.

"I'll clean the sheets after I've showered." She said quietly before leaving. Will sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. What had he done wrong? Why was she so annoyed? He thought about joining her in the shower but he got the feeling she would kill herself on the wet floor while trying to kill him for being an ass. He punched the headboard above him and threw himself from the bed to get dressed again.


End file.
